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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293560">Sticks and sparring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eledhwen/pseuds/Eledhwen'>Eledhwen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fratt Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A bit of light banter between frenemies, Fratt Week 2020, Frattweek 2, Gen, Sparring, Sticks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:22:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eledhwen/pseuds/Eledhwen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 1 prompt: Stick</p><p>In which Frank doesn't believe that a wooden stick is a useful weapon, and Matt tries to convince him it is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fratt Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fratt Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sticks and sparring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Possibly stretching the definition of 'stick' a little wide. This is post-S3 Matt, so he's back to using wooden sticks as clubs rather than Melvin's fancy ones.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank raises the gun, sights down the barrel, and takes a breath in before squeezing the trigger.</p><p>He barely has time to register the sound of something flying fast through the air at him before it hits his wrist hard and painfully, knocking his aim even as he gets the shot off. The barrel twitches, the shot goes wide and his target scarpers into the night.</p><p>Frank grunts in anger, and picks up the thing that had hit his wrist. It’s just a bit of wood, really, but he recognises it.</p><p>“Dammit, Red,” he says into the air.</p><p>“I’ve told you,” Daredevil replies, dropping apparently out of nowhere on to Frank’s ledge, and holding out his hand for the baton, “no killing.”</p><p>Frank tosses the thing at the vigilante, who catches it neatly out of the air and sticks it in the cargo pocket of his pants. “And I told you, you don’t get to dictate what I do. You just let a murderer get away.”</p><p>“No,” Daredevil says, something like humour in his voice, “he’s run straight into the arms of the cops. I tipped off Mahoney. He’ll have his day in court, but he’ll be convicted.”</p><p>“Not plannin’ to represent him, then?” Frank asks, sourly.</p><p>Daredevil laughs. “No, not this one,” he says.</p><p>Frank grunts, and ejects the cartridge from his gun. He gives Daredevil a hard look, though he knows it’s pretty much wasted. “Can’t believe you stopped that shot with a stick,” he admits.</p><p>The other man slips one of the batons out of its pocket and twirls it idly. “They’re a useful weapon,” he says.</p><p>“If you don’t want to kill folk,” says Frank, and then shrugs, because after all, that is Red’s whole mantra.</p><p>“Want to learn how to use one?” Daredevil asks, casually.</p><p>Frank thinks about it. He doesn’t see much call for a stick, not really, but maybe sparring with Red would be kind of fun. “Sure,” he says.</p><p>Daredevil grins, all teeth under his mask. “Meet me at Fogwell’s Gym,” he says. “Tomorrow, 6 maybe?”</p><p>“It’s a date,” says Frank, and watches as the vigilante gives him a nod and vanishes as silently and suddenly as he’d come. Frank tucks his gun under his coat, and heads off down the fire escape more conventionally.</p><p>He’s scoped out the gym in the past, but never been in. When he arrives, at 6 on the dot, Red is already there, warming up on a bag in t-shirt and sweatpants. He looks far less threatening like this, in normal clothes with his hair sticking up a bit from the exertion, and more relaxed than Frank thinks he’s ever seen him.</p><p>Frank dumps his bag on a bench and throws his coat on top of it, and looks around. “Nice place,” he says, meaning it. It’s shabby, but genuine, with a smell of old sweat and leather.</p><p>Red shoots another couple of left hooks at the bag and then halts, holding it until it stops swinging, before unwinding the bandages and rolling them up neatly. Stowing them in his own gymbag, he retrieves two sets of wooden batons and vaults neatly into the boxing ring.</p><p>“Coming?” he asks, bouncing a little on his feet.</p><p>Frank climbs into the ring, a little less nimbly. “You goin’ to take it slow for me?” he asks, accepting the pair of sticks that Red holds out to him.</p><p>Red gives him a scornful look.</p><p>“No,” he says. “How would you learn if I was easy on you?”</p><p>“In the normal course of things, you’d start slow with someone learning this stuff,” Frank says. “You know, to make sure they didn’t get hurt.”</p><p>“Is this a normal situation?” Red asks. “I kind of doubt it.” He flips one of his sticks, and then just comes at Frank, without warning.</p><p>Frank has enough awareness to lift his own batons and block the attack for a moment, before Red gets under his guard and lands what is probably supposed to be a gentle blow to Frank’s left bicep. Frank grunts, and retreats.</p><p>“Okay, maybe a bit slower,” Red concedes.</p><p>They work out for a good hour. Frank has his stance corrected, his grip corrected; he learns how to use the sticks as a shield and as battering weapons, and how to throw them. He isn’t as accurate as Red – which stings a bit, given that the guy can’t even see – but he gets better. By the end of the session, when they’re both sweaty and a bit bruised, he can hold Red off for a few minutes, and he sees how the sticks can be useful weapons. Hopeless in a field of war, but Hell’s Kitchen is guerrilla warfare and in that environment, they kind of make sense.</p><p>When they’re packing their stuff up, having come to the mutual agreement that they’ve had enough, he says, “you ever thought about using other weapons? Knives, or something?”</p><p>“Not really,” Red says, pausing in changing his t-shirt. “St … the guy who taught me didn’t get round to them, before he …” He stops, and shrugs, turning away from Frank. “The batons do fine.”</p><p>Frank bundles his sweat towel into his bag, adding an extra layer of “fucked up” to his assessment of Red. “I could teach you the basics with knives,” he suggests, offhand.</p><p>“That’s okay,” Red says, straightening from zipping up his bag. His shades are on, and his expression neutral and controlled. “I know enough to stop one.”</p><p>Frank raises his eyebrows, mostly for his own benefit. “I’ve seen your scars, Red.”</p><p>“And I know you have yours,” the other man retorts. “You’re an excellent gunman, but it doesn’t stop you getting shot. I’ll stick to my clubs, thank you.”</p><p>“Your funeral,” Frank says.</p><p>Red locks up as they leave the gym. “Thanks,” he says, head tilted slightly downwards.</p><p>“Hey, I was the student,” says Frank.</p><p>“Yeah, but … it’s good, to spar, like that,” Red returns.</p><p>Frank finds he agrees. “It is. Even with sticks,” he says.</p><p>Red smiles, and it’s a genuine smile, not the toothy Daredevil grin. “Even with sticks,” he agrees. “See you around, Frank.”</p><p>He heads off into the night, probably, Frank reflects, to put on his suit and go and save some lives. Frank hefts his bag on his shoulder and goes in the other direction, wondering whether he ought to add a stick or two to his own weapon collection. It might, he thinks, be worthwhile.</p>
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